Gods Among Men
by Doc Scratch
Summary: They are greater beings, is it not fitting that they should rule? Decide the fate of the world? ...And do it together? Crossover with Heroes, AU, and Master/Adam One-Shot


A/N: I don't recall ever taking any drugs, I must have just been born this fucked up. So no asking for whatever I'm on, please. The only thing I'm on... is LIFE. 8D

Summary: They are greater beings, is it not fitting that they should rule? Decide the fate of the world? ...And do it together? Crossover with Heroes, AU, and Master/Adam One-Shot

Disclaimer: I own neither Doctor Who nor Heroes.

Gods Among Men

It was the most amusing thing, truly. 'Kill off one tenth of the population' he had said. And lo and behold, his Toclafane had obeyed. Yet, no sooner had the panic escalated to chaos, unexpected events exploded out of seemingly nowhere. Humans, those pathetic, degenerate humans... showed that not all of them were quite so pathetic or degenerate after all. Men and women, displaying impossible (or rather, unprecedented) abilities, appeared as a rebel force. Most of them were crushed easily beneath the onslaught of the Toclafane, but there were those that survived and went into hiding... snakes in the grass, threats waiting for their moment to strike.

Still, the Master found that further action was not necessary. For there emerged from this disorder, this mess, a man after his own heart. An immortal, like Jack Harkness. He came, this man known as Adam Monroe, with an oddly familiar arrogant grin, a swagger in his step, a confidence in his aura. It was like the Master's own personality, reflected back to him through this man. He was old, was Adam. Not as old as the Master, not as old as the Doctor... but old all the same. He understood. Centuries he had seen pass, patterns repeating themselves, until he had reached his current immovable mindset. The world was imperfect, and horrible, and humanity was a terrible thing that needed to be controlled. Morality was a myth.

Yes, he came, with a smile. A smile and a Japanese fellow. They appeared suddenly, teleportation of a sort. The Master never did find out what exactly Adam had said to the other to get him to transport them, he only knew what happened next. Graceful, deadly, and almost too quickly for the eyes to follow. One moment the Japanese man, Carp he was apparently called, was stepping forward, a determined expression on his face. Adam moved, there was the soft swish of a well-made sword being unsheathed, and the next moment that determined expression was on the floor, frozen permanently.

"Well," Adam had said, wiping the blade casually on the dead man's shirt, efficiently ignoring the selection of advanced weaponry suddenly aimed in his direction. "I was wondering when I'd finally get my sword back."

And the Master laughed. Their eyes met, a morbid joke shared, a small smile, a psychotic grin, and somehow they matched. The Toclafane retracted, Lucy relaxed curiously, the Doctor was surveying them with quiet sorrow, a half-unbelieving horror settling deep within him.

"Look." Adam said, drawing a small vial from a pocket.

"You know I am not human. Whatever is in there is unlikely to kill me." The Master stated calmly.

"I wasn't finished." Adam pointed out. The Master blinked. Adam uncorked the vial, and tossed it out the window. "You'll see." He said and, with a cheery wave, leapt out after it.

One month later, the Master had the Toclafane scouring the globe for the blonde man. They found him, sitting on top of Big Ben, laughing as the giant clock tower burned.

Ninety-three percent of the world's population was dead. Lucy had been one of the first victims, along with most of the Jones family. It was still unknown whether Martha had survived or not. Jack Harkness himself had died of the disease four times before the illness dissipated, running out of susceptible victims, leaving only those who had somehow developed immunity. The Master was suitably impressed.

"Where did you get the virus?" He asked fascinatedly, when Adam was thrown before him, still laughing.

"It was, shall we say, the product of several lifetimes' work." The blonde man replied, his coy composure restoring itself slowly. "A long-term plan, but I can outwait anyone."

"I see." The Master raised an eyebrow, delicately.

"You made it possible." Adam informed the Time Lord. Heedless of the Toclafane flanking him, the immortal pulled himself to his feet, staggering slightly with barely contained mirth and madness. "I slipped in, through the destruction, and took the fruit of my efforts that they'd hidden from me... right out from under their noses." That smile was back, that familiar smile. The Master recognized it, recognized it as the same smile, small, knowing, powerful, that had often rested on his own face before he had let the Drums have their way with his mind, destroying any self-control he may have had left. "And then Carp, my Carp, he thought we could stop you. So naive, he always was. So willing to trust... and then here I was. I could have dropped it anywhere, but I wanted to show you, as a thank you, because you made it possible."

"And what is left now?" He asked, closing his eyes and looking up as though basking in the sun that shown through the skylight on the ship.

"A new world. A changed Earth." The Master replied. "It was made, apparently, by the both of us." Adam's smile grew, though his eyes remained closed.

"Yes." He breathed. "Like the mythical phoenix, a new world built upon the ashes and graves of the old." There he stood, that immortal, ineffable man. Blonde hair shimmering in the rays of the Earth's sun, skin practically glowing, his arms spread wide as though embracing the very idea as it came to fruition, burned and smoke-stained clothes hanging off his slim muscled form. The light shone on those sharp features, softened somewhat since the piercing blue eyes hid behind their eyelids. He was striking, a legend in the flesh. A god among men. And the Master knew, as he had suspected from the moment he had seen that _smile_... that he had found his true equal. Knew it as the drums, usually a pattern which beat systematically against the back of his skull, rose to a thundering, glorious crescendo, ever louder with every step he took towards the blonde.

"Our world." The Master whispered in Adam's ear. His breath ruffled the very tips of a few loose golden strands. A warm arm slid around his waist. That familiar smile pressed itself against his neck.

"Yes." Adam agreed, the word transferred more by touch than sound.

"Our world."

END.

A/N: Master/Adam has become a sort of OTP now for me. Because it's amazing, and so _there._ Go out and spread the word.


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